


Outrage

by Larxicana



Series: Avalanche: The Most Fancy Ass Restaurant in all of Midgar. [1]
Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fancy Restaurant Setting, M/M, Slice of Life, Vincent is a server, With a modern twist, rated for Cid's mouth, restaurant AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 20:35:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13419132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larxicana/pseuds/Larxicana
Summary: "There's a hair in my soup!""That's your hair, sir.""No it's not! It's your's! It's black!""It's grey, sir.""I don't have any grey hair!"Vincent straightened and eyed the man’s thinning, grey hair for a moment, “Whatever you say, sir.”---In which Cid isn't the manager, but handles the situation in a way everyone thinks is appropriate.





	Outrage

**Author's Note:**

> Oh if only this was how we could handle very rude and obnoxious customer...

“Here you are. Can I get you anything else?”

“WAITER! EXCUSE ME, WAITER!”

His customers hesitated and glanced off to the side at a man who was shouting a few tables away. “Um, no… I think we’re good. Thank you very much.”

“My pleasure. Please enjoy.”

“WAITER!”

Vincent straightened, took a slow, quiet, deep breath, before he turned to address the man who he assumed was shouting for him, since he was in his section. Apparently he forgot his name already. Big surprise. When he reached his table, he put a hand to his chest and bow ever so slightly, “Yes sir, what can I do for you?” He asked politely.

The plump, round man frowned and wrinkled his nose, pointing at his bowl of soup. “There’s a hair in my soup!”

Vincent leaned forward to glance down in his half empty bowl. It was short and gray, floating right on top. “That is your own hair, sir.”

“No it’s not! This is your hair! It’s black!”

“It’s grey, sir.”

“I don’t have any gray hair!”

Vincent straightened and eyed the man’s thinning, grey hair for a moment, “Whatever you say, sir.”

“Well don’t just stand there! I want to speak to a manager!”

Vincent met his eyes, stared at him for a long moment, before he turned and walked towards the back without another word. The kitchen was at a pleasant rhythm tonight, where things were moving in a constant speed, but the cooks could still joke with each other. Food was being put out smoothly and at a well-timed pace, as it did every night. Servers were there right as the food was being put in the window, allowing the dishes to be taken out fresh and hot, as it was every night. _The Avalanche_ was quite the officiant machine.

Tifa, who usually worked the bar, but was acting manager that night since Aerith had the night off, was standing at the counter chatting with Cid, who busted out in a loud laugh at whatever she had said. She put a hand to her mouth and giggled.

Vincent approached her, waited patiently for the conversation to pause and for her attention to turn to him before speaking. “There is a man at table 23 who wishes to speak with you. He says he found a hair in his soup.”

“What?!” Cid, the head chef, demanded as he narrowed his eyes and he slammed a hand on his counter. “Impossible! Every piece of food that leaves mah kitchen gets checked by _me_ first! Ain’t no damn way there’s a hair in it!”

Vincent looked to him, “He insists that it is my hair, though it is short and grey.” He looked back to Tifa, “He also shouted for me while I was speaking to another table several away from him.”

Tifa opened her mouth, but Cid interrupted her, “Oh, and he was rude to ya too? That no good money suckin’ _motherfucker…”_

“Easy, Cid.” The woman held up a hand towards him then sighed, but gave him a smile, “The day you start going grey is the day Cloud will dress up like a girl and actually enjoy it.” Cloud, who had been loading a tray with food nearby, tossed her a weak glare as he heaved the tray up onto his shoulder then left. “Besides, it could just be an honest mistake.”

“His bowl was almost empty.” Vincent added helpfully.

Tifa’s eyebrow twitched as she stared up at him with a new, very much annoyed expression. “Or he could just not have liked the soup and is trying to get out of paying for it.”

“Doesn’t like-!” Cid snarled and chucked the knife he was holding down to embed it in the cutting board before he dug into his pocket to pull out his vap. He took a long drag, exhaling a massive white cloud that didn’t faze Vincent, but Tifa tried to fan away with her hand as she made a face. Cid dropped the device into his jacket pocket again and marched around the counter, “I’ll talk to ‘em.”

“Cid, no-.”

The blonde waved her off, “Relax. I ain’t gonna touch ‘em this time, ya know, unless they make a grab at Vince, then yer gonna have ta call the cops.” He turned to Vincent, “Where they at?”

Vincent paused to study him, then glanced down at Tifa, who had a hand over her face, sighing and shaking her head, but didn’t protest. Satisfied, Vincent looked back to Cid and nodded once before leading him out of the kitchen. They walked across the grand restaurant floor, past the stage where someone was playing piano, to the center, one of the busiest sections because of its view of the restaurant’s architecture and massive chandelier that hung from the ceiling.

“Must be nice to be Reeve, havin’ all that money…” Cid grumbled behind him.

When they arrived at the table, Vincent motioned to the man who had complained with one hand before tucking them both behind his back. Cid looked down at the man and crossed his arms. Now he wasn’t a tall guy, but he was plenty thick from working on his little side project, a plane called the Tiny Bronko, in his spare time. He hadn’t shaved that morning and hardly did anything to his hair, other than run his fingers though it then use his goggles to keep it out of his face. The sleeves of his chef’s jacket were also pushed up to his elbows, showing his old and new tattoos, all aviator related. Needless to say, as he glared down at the plump man, he looked rather intimidating.

“Wa’s the problem here?” He demanded.

The older man looked up at him, “Are you the manager?” he asked.

“I’m head chef. Ya gotta problem with mah food?”

“I found a hair in it!” He picked up a napkin and held it up for them to see. Both Cid and Vincent leaned forward to study it. It was indeed short and grey. Standing up straight, the two shared a look. Well, Vincent’s face was calm and blank, as it always was at work, but Cid could see the expression he wanted to make, and he couldn’t agree more. “It’s the waiter’s!” The man said, “He doesn’t have his hair properly tied back!” He waved to Vincent’s pony tail, which has slipped over his shoulder. “It’s entirely too long, anyways. Completely unprofessional!”

Vincent’s hand shot out and grabbed Cid’s shoulder as it tensed and moved forward, not having to look at him to know the comment offended him more than it did himself. Cid frowned and glanced at him, then back down at the customer. When Vincent was sure he wasn’t going to throttle the man, for the time being, he removed his hand and put it behind his back again. “’Ight, first of all,” Cid started, “ya'll ain't gonna come inta mah house, shoutin’ and screamin’, makin’ a scene like yer five or some'em, got it? Yer sixty years old, fucking act like it."

"You can't talk-!"

"Secondly, that shit's yer hair. Now I'm sure ya losin' yer sight in ya old age, so I'll let chya know verbally..." he takes a gentle handful of Vincent's hair and points to it. "Vince's hair is long, straight, and black. _Not_ short and grey. Can ya see it? No, course ya can't. Stupid question."

Vincent glanced around, noting how the dining room in this area had grown quiet as people watched on curiously. The front of the house staff had also gathered together to watch, never missing one of Cid’s raging moments with the customers. Even Cloud looked on with a slight smirk to his face.

"It ain't his fault if ya goddamn hair's fallin' out, so don't even try to blame him for it." Cid continues, drawing Vincent’s attention back to the table. "Now I'll give ya a few options here… ya can either sit there, shut up, and finish eattin’ ya goddamn soup, cause I mean,” he made a wild motion to it, “it’s practically empty! Why stop now?! Or ya can pay yer bill and fucking leave!"

The guy looks outraged, "I'm not paying for this or eating it! It has-"

Cid leaned forward and slammed his hands on the table, causing silverware and man to jump, "If yer tell me one more time that it's gotta fuckin’ hair in it, I'm gonna shove that _hair_ down yer throat!" Vincent heard snickers and giggles from the FOH staff and a few from customers around them. He too, was enjoying the show. On the inside.

"You can't talk to me like that! This is an outrage!"

"No, this is the fucking _Avalanche_ , the most goddamn fancy ass restaurant in all'a Midgar! Not fucking _Burger Shack!_ Now stop actin' like a fuckin' kid and eat chya goddamn soup! And if Vince goes back into the kitchen and tells me one more time that chya givin' him trouble, or you tip less than 40%, I'll give ya more to worry about than just a fucking hair in ya soup." He stood up straight and cracked his knuckles for show, causing the man to flinch. Satisfied, Cid nodded once then looked at Vincent, “Anything else?” he asked. Vincent simply shook his head. “Good.” The blonde leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, “Table 20’s food’s almost ready.” He then turned and started back towards the kitchen.

The restaurant was quiet for a moment, before people slowly started to clap and cheer. The FOH staff clapped too, shouting, laughing, and cheering. With the smallest of smirks on his lips, Vincent turned back to the man at his table, “Do you need anything else, sir?” The man, who was tense, quiet, and uncomfortable at this point, shook his head. “Very well. Enjoy your meal.” He turned and walked away, perhaps standing just a tad bit straighter.


End file.
